Flakes Something I Thought I'd Never Play
by Wildlark
Summary: A short story that delves more into the early life of James Howlett, the boy who would eventually grow up to be the beast known as Wolverine.


Takes place between Origin #1 and #2. If you haven't read the comic, READ IT! It's awesome and beautiful and oh so tragic. And if you don't read it, this story will make sense (sorta), but you won't know the significance of these three kids in terms of the much bigger X-Men story…well, maybe a little, if you've watched X-Men Origins: Wolverine, which was partly based on the Origin mini-series.

Simply put, it's got a young Wolverine in it. So enjoy!

…

The late afternoon sky slowly faded from orange to a more purple-ish, murky color, as James strolled through the hedge maze, his loyal spaniel Callie at his heels. The setting sun cast long shadows behind each hedge wall, giving the maze a very eerie feel, but James had long since learned to not be afraid of it. In fact, he enjoyed the feeling of mystery and adventure; there was only so much exploring he could do of the Howlett mansion where he had lived his entire life, and where he was forced to stay most of the time due to his allergies and overall weakness.

Just then Callie, who had gone a few yards ahead of James to chase after a field mouse, stopped in her tracks and barked at something in front of her, a figure leaning against the final corner of the maze that James would have to go around before finding the exit (he had gone through the course so many times that he knew it by heart). It was hard to see exactly who the figure was, what with them hiding in the shadows, but James could recognize the brim hat and muddy, torn clothing from anywhere. It was Dog.

"This is the first time since the river incident that you haven't sprinted away at the sight of me," he asked, taking a single step forward cautiously for exactly that reason. It had been three years since Dog had accidently pushed James into the river and had then had to rescue him, but James thought, surely, that Dog would be over it by now. But no, the last time James had been in the same room with Dog was right after the incident, when they were both brought up to James's father's study to warm up by the fireplace and explain what had happened. Then Thomas had taken Dog back to the shack where they lived. Up until then, James had been skeptical of Rose's assumptions that Thomas regularly beat his son. But after seeing the look on the groundskeeper's face that night as he led Dog away, James had no doubt that his friend was mistreated.

Perhaps that was why Dog had refused contact with James ever since that night, even though now they were both sixteen and would soon inherit their fathers' positions—Dog as the groundskeeper, James as his master, as well as master to the rest of the many servants and workers that worked on the Howlett property. If Dog were to keep his job, he would have to get over whatever fear he had and finally communicate with James again.

Luckily, the boy seemed to have learned this himself. "I just wanted to see how much you would miss me," he joked darkly, stepping away from the wall and into the sunlight. His face was bruised and covered in dirt as usual, though he seemed much less skinny and malnourished than he did back when he was kid. This was probably because he was beginning to take over Thomas's duties and was beefing up from the hard labor. Or maybe his father was treating him a little better, though James doubted this.

"It's not so much me that misses you," said James, looking down at his shoes. "It's Rose. She's been wanting to talk to you desperately. Wants to know how you're doing."

"Does she, now?" Dog looked behind him at the giant building that was the mansion, a place where James and Rose lived, and where Dog rarely had the privilege to go inside.

"She worries that the reason why you haven't spoken with us has to do with her," James explained.

"Ha!" barked Dog, spitting onto the ground. "She really ain't that smart as she thinks, is she? It's got nothing to do with her. Really, all I'm doing is respecting my place. I'm a groundskeeper, or at least learning how to be one—I don't associate with the master's son or any of his so-called companions."

"You're gonna have to," said James, "if you're gonna work for me. How will I boss you around if you refuse to even look at me? Will I have to get Callie to deliver messages for me?"

"Who, that spoiled runt?" asked Dog, pointed at the spaniel, who was wagging her tail stupidly while staring up at the sky. "Forget about her delivering messages. She's barely able to lift a paw…not so unlike yourself, James."

"You saying I can't work?" asked James, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm saying, you're even more worthless than your father," said Dog, "a man who's so weak, he can't even control that soggy biscuit you call your grandfather from sending this place to hell."

"Don't you go talking 'bout my family like that, Logan," said James, gritting his teeth as he called the other boy by his last name. "Have you forgotten the fact that your old man is a drunken, rambling fool who can't even think straight, let alone get any work done? How he ever manages to get his lazy ass moving enough to beat the living daylights out of you, I'll never know."

"You're asking for it big time, Howlett." Dog reached for the handle of the butcher knife he kept in his belt.

"You wouldn't dare…my father will see to it that you're hanged for laying a finger on me!"

"Oh, I'm smarter than that, James," said Dog, grinning wickedly. "I know better than to harm your pathetic self. But what about that little mutt of yours? A Christmas gift, wasn't she? Well, seems like she's turned out to be a pretty lousy gift, if you ask me. She's pro'bly the most useless hound I've ever seen. I'm sure she won't be missed…"

"James! Dog! What's going on here?"

James's mood instantly brightened when he heard Rose's voice, and his heart leapt when he saw her pretty face peak out from behind the hedge corner.

"Was I interrupting anything?" she asked shyly, looking from James to Dog and then back to James again. "I was just going to tell James that it's getting late and he should head back inside for supper, but I know you two haven't spoken to each other for a while, and I don't want to get in the way of anything…but, oh, Dog, it's been so long since I've talked to you, either. Do you think, after breakfast tomorrow, we could go walking—"

"Hush, girl," said Dog sternly, turning away from James and Callie. "This ain't no big reunion. I was just…discussing things with James. Pretty soon, he'll be the chief around here, and I'll be working for him. Thought I should see how he was doing, ya know?"

"Oh, right…" Rose glanced at the butcher knife, which Dog still had a hand on. "Well, all the same, it's good to see you again, Dog."

"You, too," Dog grunted. He nodded towards James, and there seemed to be a glint in his eye that wasn't quite distinguishable. Then the groundskeeper's son walked past Rose and out of the maze, back towards the shack at the bottom of the hill.


End file.
